nine2five 17 Nomad
by Marc Vun Kannon
Summary: Chuck has issues, Ellie has tissues, Sarah snaps, Beckman blinks, Casey and Carina are on the hunt, Manoosh is on the prowl, and Morgan makes an oopsie...
1. Chapter 1

**A/N **This story is weird. It's confusing me and I'm writing the damn thing. But it does have sense, I call it Nomad for a reason. I actually just thought of a few more, but there's one reason in particular.

As usual, no research was harmed in the making of this story.

I'm sure there's a universe where I do own Chuck, but it's not this one.

* * *

"_Sounds like the Turners are on their way."_

"_Marines don't complain. They take action." _

"_The miracle is I'm still her bridesmaid."_

"_Here, kitty, kitty!"_

* * *

Casey seethed, all the long ride to Ellie's place. Morgan had lured a tiger into beloved Crown Vic, trapping the beast so Casey could back up his team. The cat had also shredded the seats, forcing him to leave his car in the hands of a cleaner team while he had to drive some too-small, too-slow, under-armed and armored POS from the lot. At least the little runt didn't get it blown up. That consoling thought soothed Casey over the long ride, helped him find his angry center.

If she wasn't perfectly fine he was going to hurt somebody.

* * *

A hand tried the knob. Locked.

A bar of steel held by two strong men tried the door under the knob. Unlocked.

Dark-suited figures entered the house, guns and flashlights at the ready. "Doctor Woodcombe? Eleanor Woodcombe? Metro Police!"

No response. They fanned out, two by two.

One pair went to the dining area. Chairs on one side of the table were disarranged, as if someone had stumbled through in the dark. "Doctor Woodcombe?" said the more senior of the two, flashing his light under the table. "It's clear."

"I'll check the kitchen," said his partner. He pushed through the door. "Eleanor Wood–"

* * *

Sarah had her Porsche, and Carina. "You think they'll listen?"

"This close to the capitol they know what a 'do not approach' order means."

"They'd better. I don't want them scaring her more than she already must be. Why would anybody go after her? She's just a doctor, one of the kindest and gentlest souls I've ever met, aside from her brother. I can't imagine what she must be going through."

"Well, at the risk of sounding thoughtful, we don't know that anyone did go after her. Could have been just a robbery or something."

"Like that'll save them, if they harm even one hair–"

Casey's voice erupted from the speaker. "Unit Two, come in."

"How come he gets to be Unit One?" Carina groused.

"There's two of us and one of him," said Sarah, in a 'that makes sense to me' tone of voice. She pressed the button. "Go ahead, Unit One."

"Just heard from the police, they say it looks like a shaped charge took down the lines."

Carina sat up, looking thoughtful. "There goes the robbery idea."

"Did they find Ellie? Is she okay? Are they keeping their distance?"

"Are you kidding? They're afraid to go in. The first guy through the door got a faceful of frying pan."

"That doesn't sound too bad." Carina wouldn't even _enter_ a kitchen if she could help it.

"Cast iron."

Sarah was taking lessons from Ellie. "Ouch."

"Yeah, those things can be deadly, but she only broke his cheekbone, knocked out a tooth. She offered to treat it, but between the do not approach order and the butcher knife she was waving around, they decided to pass. They offered to send us a police escort to get us there sooner."

"Skillet and knife, John. Only soonest will do and we're already doing that."

"Roger that." John Casey clicked off the microphone, so he could curse in peace. If they had to stick him with an un-American vehicle, why couldn't they at least have given him a fast one?

* * *

"_I know a man who deserves some blueberries," she said._

_The loving tone in her voice made him smile, as always. "I know a woman who deserves some flowers."_

_She walked over to the fruit stand, and he turned to the flower vendor. The lilies and the roses called to him, but for some reason he found himself standing with a bouquet of gardenias in his hand._

"_You should go with the roses, Daniel."_

_Daniel Shaw looked up, saw Charles Carmichael standing there in his janitor's uniform, watching him with dark eyes._

_Carmichael pulled a flower from a basket. "Or lilies. Always popular at funerals, lilies."_

_Daniel Shaw looked down at the flowers in his hands. "Yes, you're right. You're always right." _

"_That's what makes me Carmichael. Trade you."_

_They exchanged flowers._

_Chuck Bartowski looked down at the flowers in his hands. "My wife loves gardenias, though." He looked up at Shaw, standing there in his janitor's uniform._

"_Is that your wife, Chuck?" Shaw pulled a pistol from the pocket of his coveralls, pointed it at Sarah, coming back with a box of blueberries. He fired and she fell. "I said you should have gone with the lilies, Chuck."_

"_What did you do that for?"_

"_You know, Chuck. Turnabout, and all that. You'll understand, when you're me." Shaw put the gun back in his pocket, picked up his broom. "But right now, I'm you, and I've got some work to do." He walked over to the body. _

_Chuck looked down at the flowers in his hands. Lilies. They were lilies._

_He looked up. The plaza was empty, swept clean, except for a spilled box of blueberries. In the distance he saw a man in a janitor's uniform, pushing his cart round the corner. _

_He ran after him._

* * *

The Porsche and the blonde hair should have been enough, but Sarah took no chances. "CIA," she said, flashing her credentials. "DEA," she continued, pointing at Carina. "NSA will be along in a moment."

"Jesus Christ," said one of the policemen in shock. "Who the hell _is_ this broad?"

Sarah frowned. _Broad?_ Something very Casey-like rumbled past her closed lips.

Carina took a step backward. The officers nearest them did likewise.

Sarah turned to her red-haired companion. "Deal with him. I'm going to go see the Doctor." She stalked through the suddenly empty doorway, leaving behind the sound of Carina asking yet another man his name, but not in a good way.

She found Ellie easily, scanning the clumps of industrious crime scene investigators and zeroing in on the room they were farthest from. The familiar layout of the house seemed very strange in the glow of the portable lights, not at all the warm, safe haven she knew. The house had been robbed after all.

Someone would pay for that.

She grabbed a chair, and a flashlight, and brought them with her to the door. She hesitated a second before knocking. "Doctor?"

"Come in, um, Agent…?"

Sarah pushed through the door, chair in hand. "You see my problem. Three names and I can't use any of them." The room was lit with the soft green light of multiple chem-sticks. Ellie was pacing back and forth. Sarah lifted the light she'd brought. "Guess I won't need this."

"We brought our disaster kit from LA." Ellie took quick glances as she paced. "How's that policeman? Is Chuck all right? Who's the chair for?"

Sarah put the chair on the floor. "Uh, broken cheek and a missing tooth, Chuck's home in bed, I guess , and the chair is either for me to pour you into, or for me to sit in while you walk off the shakes." She sat.

Ellie stared at her trembling hands as she paced. "I can't stop them. I bet you never get these."

"Ellie. We all get them. Even Casey gets them, he'll just never admit it. It's just adrenaline, it'll pass."

Ellie stuck her hands under her arms. "No! It's not just adrenaline. It won't pass." She fought herself to a standstill. "Please don't leave me alone."

Now was not a time for sitting idly by. Sarah rose and enveloped her husband's sister is a giant but non-bone-crushing hug. "I promise. I won't leave you alone." She let go, allowing Ellie to resume her pacing before she shook herself apart. "What happened?"

"The, uh ahem, the lights went out." Ellie's arms regained their freedom as she gestured at the ceiling. "I had the panic button in my hand but I didn't push it right away, I wasn't sure if it was me or the whole block. I knew where the windows were and the furniture, but I didn't get to one before he started talking to me."

"Who?"

Ellie talked right over the question. "He kept saying 'why did you kill me, Eleanor? Why did you kill me?'"

Sarah sat up straight, in shock. "You've never killed anyone. You've never even hurt anyone."

"I know. I haven't done anything since I got to this darn city except neurological research. The only person I've practiced any medicine on is Chuck and he's still alive, right?"

Technically speaking, Sarah would have had to call his detail and check, but that wasn't what Ellie needed to hear. "Yes, of course he is. You were just with him."

Ellie's hands flew up into her hair. "I know, I know!" She turned, even though she hadn't reached the far wall just then. "Please don't leave me alone."

"I'm right here, Ellie. I won't leave you." Sarah took a deep breath, knowing what the reaction to her next question would be. "Do you know who it was?"

Back to pacing. "I couldn't get away from him. I pressed the button and I ran, but no matter where I went he was right there, haunting me like some kind of ghost! 'Why did you kill me, Eleanor?', he wouldn't shut up, no matter where I went he was there. Then I was here."

"Understandable," said Sarah, calmly. "It's your favorite room, you love to cook. The safest place, in your mind. And, of course–" She gestured at the knife and the skillet, lying on the counter.

"He was _here_, Sarah. He was right here. I could feel him, that's when I went for the chem-sticks. I heard his voice everywhere but I could feel him here, always calling me Eleanor–" She raised her hands to her mouth. "Oh, that poor policeman, he came through the door saying my name and I just couldn't stop…"

Sarah took Ellie's hands, brought them down. "But you did stop, Ellie. As strong as you are, with a weapon like that, you could have killed that policeman and you didn't." It was the only comfort Sarah knew how to give. "Don't worry, we're here now, we'll keep you safe."

"I didn't. You're here now." Ellie slumped, the nervous energy draining away, leaving her drained, strengthless. "You can't keep me safe, Sarah, no one can. So tired."

Sarah caught her, guided her to the seat. "Rest here a minute, let me clear the room so I can get you to bed."

"please…please…"

"I won't leave you. I'm just going to the door."

* * *

Manoosh looked up from his reread of Looking For Group to notice that his program had finally finished digesting the contents of that stupid disc. Decrypted, decompiled, de-this and de-that, maybe now he could finally take a stab at figuring out what the damn thing was supposed to do. It wasn't going to be as much fun as what he'd _been_ reading, that's for sure.

* * *

Sarah stepped out of the bedroom as soon as the sedative had taken effect. "Talk to me."

"A professional break-in," said Carina, who'd spent the evening conferring with the police. "Entry point in the basement, signs of activity all over the house, but no prints." She pointed. "Exit point appears to be that window, although it was locked from the inside." Which wasn't a sticking point to anyone who knew how to lock windows from the outside.

"Was he in the kitchen?"

"Sure, but it's hard to say how long, without the carpeting to trap his footprints. With the electricity out and some NVGs, he could have been standing next to her right up until the time she went after her chemical lights. The second her back was turned he could just slip out the door."

"Casey, security?"

He'd gotten to the party late but still joined in the festivities. "Royally buggered at the pole. Some kind of computer bypass, got taken out when the charge blew the lines. I've got the pieces. Police'll be canvassing, see if they can find a witness who remembers a truck."

"And the relays?"

"Who told you about those?"

"Stands to reason. She said she heard his voice in every room."

"CIA-standard." Which meant everybody had them. "Controlled through a laptop, possibly a phone app."

Carina sighed. "Great, so have we managed to narrow it down to even one government yet?"

"On the contrary, I know exactly who did this. Casey, this mission is yours. Please try to be gentle." Sarah Bartowski turned and walked away, to keep her sister-in-law company until her brother-in-law returned home.

* * *

_Chuck woke on the couch in his living room, exhausted physically from crazy dreams mentally. Why on Earth would he dream so much about Daniel Shaw?_

"_Probably because you know I'm going to kill you, Chuck."_

_Chuck sat up with a gasp. "Shaw! But you're dead!"_

"_Yes, saving your life, only to find that your wife is the murderer of mine. That's hardly fair. So we're going to do a little turnabout. She killed my wife, I kill her husband. Turnabout's always fair play, isn't it, Chuck?"_

"_As long as you don't hurt the body, Shaw," said Charles Carmichael from behind Chuck. "That's mine." _

Chuck woke and sat up with a shriek. Someone was standing there, at the end of the couch! Casey. "Shaw," said Chuck instantly. "Shaw and Carmichael, they're working together."

"A dead guy and your invisible friend? I don't think so." Casey put two tranq darts in Chuck's chest, and his target slumped. "Good night, sweet prince."

"Hamlet, Casey?" asked Carina from the other end of the couch, as he put the pistol away.

"I like Hamlet. It's no Henry the Fifth but it'll do in a pinch."

Carina stared at Chuck's back, glad he was out. When he found out what his counterpart had done…That was so not a conversation she wanted to be a part of. "What now?"

Casey hoisted Chuck's limp form over his shoulder. "The Doctor is out, but General Beckman says there's a new doctor in town, so I say we get this nerd shrink-wrapped."

* * *

**A/N2 **I suppose there might be people reading this who get the Nomad reference. If you do, I'll give you a prize, you can be in the loony bin with Chcuk next chapter! Or...maybe not.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N **Insert comment here.

* * *

"_They're afraid to go in."_

"_You'll understand, when you're me." _

"_You can't keep me safe, Sarah, no one can."_

"_Good night, sweet prince."_

* * *

"Let me make sure I've got this straight, Colonel," said General Beckman. "You had the number one intelligence asset in the United States committed?"

No cover. No support. Well, some support but he'd be court-martialed before he'd turn to Carina for it. _Suck it up, Marine._ "Not 'committed'…per se…ma'am," he said facing the General squarely. "But with Doctor Woodcombe unavailable, and Doctor Dreyfus read in, remanding the Intersect to a secure holding facility under that Doctor's supervision seemed the best option for addressing the matter."

"I'm sure the distinction will be greatly appreciated by his nearest and dearest," commented Carina, without her trademark smile.

"Of course it won't," agreed Beckman. "That's why they aren't part of this meeting. I'll be speaking with Doctor Woodcombe and Mrs. Bartowski after we've finished here. That said, I _do_ appreciate the distinction, Colonel, and I want you to make sure that the doctor and the facility appreciate it too."

"Yes, ma'am."

"While we're in a holding pattern, last night Ellie informed me that her assistant has an idea for capturing the first appearance of Charles Carmichael. I want you two to meet with him and make the arrangements, if it should turn out to be feasible."

"Yes, ma'am," said Casey again, with considerably less enthusiasm. Taking directions from that geek wasn't high on his of things to do ever.

* * *

Chuck stood in the day room, wearing his own pajamas and his own robe. "I can't believe this is happening."

"You can't believe what's happening?" asked Dr. Dreyfus, coming up to his side. He looked down at the table. "Oh. Yes, Lewis here is our reigning dominoes champion, someone should have warned you."

"Just a friendly game, Doc," said Lewis. "Nothing–" his face spasmed "–sexual."

"Nope," Chuck hastily agreed, "Just friendly non-sexual games in the day room, right guys?" No one paid him the slightest heed.

Dreyfus put a hand on Chuck's arm, turned him toward the door. "Come with me to my office, Chuck. We have a lot to talk about."

* * *

"Good morning, Sarah. Ellie, how are you feeling?"

Ellie took a determined sip of her coffee. "Sedative side-effects, General. Nothing I like, nothing I can't handle."

"Oh, Ellie…"

She held up a hand. "No recruiting."

"How's Chuck?" said Sarah into the power vacuum. "Only Carmichael could have done everything that was done last night, all by himself."

As usual, General Beckman hid her disappointment with work. She hid most things with work. "Colonel Casey discovered your husband at your house last night, Agent Bartowski, sleeping on the couch. Before they could wake him, he sat up, to give Colonel Casey the apparently serious warning–" Beckman paused to gather her strength, before pushing on "–that Daniel Shaw and Charles Carmichael were working together."

"Oh dear."

"Colonel Casey immediately subdued Mr. Bartowski and took him to a secure holding facility, where Dr. Dreyfus is evaluating him as we speak."

Sarah – _Carina's_ Sarah – reacted instantly. "You had my husband _committed_?"

General Beckman blinked. No cover, and all the support was on Sarah's side. "Not committed…per se…Sarah…"

* * *

Dreyfus settled into his chair comfortably. "The first thing I need to tell you, Chuck, is that, although this is a CIA psychiatric facility, you are not a patient here."

"So I can leave?"

"No. This is a holding facility, and I am evaluating the risk you pose to the world. But there will be no diagnosis or course of treatment at this time. We'll cross that bridge if and when we come to it."

"And you're still not my doctor?"

"That is correct, in our time together you've yet to show me the need for one, although I wouldn't mind getting my hands on Mr. Carmichael for a session or two. I understand you intended him to be some sort of idealization, but he is far from ideal. He's not even a whole man."

Chuck shrugged. "He's a work in progress."

Dreyfus shook his head. "Ideals aren't works-in-progress, Chuck, that's why they're ideals. _You're_ the work in progress, and this Charles Carmichael-shaped thing you've got in your head is much less."

"He's the perfect spy!"

"Maybe he is, Chuck, but he's a very bad man. Even his best qualities fall far short of your most modest ones, and he has no modest qualities at all. He's a caricature." Dreyfus flipped a page on his notes, and looked up at Chuck. "Now, I've read your file, and I know he didn't start out that way. Somewhere along the line he's slipped his leash, and it's up to us to get him back in harness again, if you ever want to leave this building."

* * *

The Intersect area was dark. Neither Casey nor Carina expected that, but then, they'd never gotten there before Ellie, either. The upside was that it made Manoosh's little hole in the wall much easier to find.

"Don't you ever sleep?" asked Casey.

Manoosh was a lot less afraid of Casey after the whole Intersect Room debacle. "Kind of hard to tell day from night down here. I usually go by when the Boss gets in."

Casey grunted. "We're your alarm clock today. Ellie's out of the game for a while."

Manoosh froze. _But-? She…_

"Hello," called Carina, waving a hand in front of his face, "Earth to Manoosh."

"Is she okay?" asked the nerd when he'd started breathing again. "She's gotta be okay."

The two spies traded a look. "Yeah, she's okay," said Casey. "Had a bit of a bad night."

"Someone spooked her real bad," explained Carina. "The only person who could have done it is Charles Carmichael."

"Hey, no way," said Manoosh. "The Host loves Ellie, and Carmichael's part of the Host. I'd believe the two of you did it before I'd believe _that_."

Casey went for _imposing_. "You know an awful lot about the Host for someone who wants to see daylight before he dies."

"Please. The way they talk you'd think they were married, except that I've seen her husband, and believe me, the only thing that frat boy can host is a kegger."

"He's a heart surgeon," said Carina.

"Yeah, he's smart, but he's not the Host, and neither is your stalker."

"Whatever, nerd," said Casey, not about to give that show of loyalty the three cheers it deserved. "You think that, prove it. Find us another target and I'll be glad to hunt him down. But for now, Carmichael's the best bet. We're told you had some ideas about completing our intel on him, so we're here to get the specifics and set it up."

Manoosh knew what it felt like to be on the receiving end. "Tightening the noose?"

"Hey, it was _your _idea," said Casey, smirking. "Have a little faith."

"Oh, I've got a lot of faith." Manoosh snatched up a clipboard with some printed pages. "Sorry this isn't in crayon. Everything you need to know. Even you should have trouble screwing it up. Now, while you're trying to avoid the door on the way out, I'll be busy finding the real stalker."

"Yeah, good luck with that," said Casey absently, flipping through the pages. "Come on, Miller, let's get this over with."

She waited until they were at the car before speaking up. "What do you think you're doing?"

Casey hadn't been innocent for a long time, so he was out of practice looking like it. "What do you mean? Now he's as motivated as we are to find the real bad guy."

"You also just sicced a nerd on what has to be the second-greatest spy in the world. What do you think he can do?"

"I don't know," said Casey, starting the engine. "Trash his credit rating, eat his retirement account. The mind boggles."

* * *

Manoosh pulled up a chair, and started hunting his way, _Irritating troglodyte._ There had to be some reports filed, just look for the bad spelling and the short words. He'd start there, and see where they led. On his second monitor he started up a small window, with a recording of the Host's brain waves from the scanner. Something to help him relax. He moved the window with the decompiled Ring code onto a third monitor.

_Orion?_

* * *

Dreyfus looked up as the door opened. "Hello, Chuck, welcome back. I'm sorry we have to handle your sessions in such small increments, but my real patients are accustomed to their schedule." He moved to his chair.

Chuck sat on the couch. "It's all right, Doc."

"Chuck, this may seem like an odd question, but…if you had a time machine, is there any event in your life that you'd consider going back to change?"

That got a smile. "I used to have that fantasy, you know. Go back in time and stop my mom or dad from leaving us. Go back and find out why Bryce betrayed me, or Jill, make it not happen." The smile faded. "I don't think about it anymore."

"What about your friend Bryce? Would you stop him sending you the Intersect, stop yourself from opening that email?"

Chuck made a face. "I can't say it's been entirely a blessing, but…it brought me Sarah, so no. I wouldn't change anything that would take her away from me."

"And yet you spend every waking moment of every day trying to change yourself."

"But…I'm trying to make myself better, not drive her away. I'm only trying to be what she deserves."

"You think you're being modest but you're not."

"What?"

"It's not your business to decide what Sarah deserves, Chuck. You think you're being modest but what you're really doing is telling her that she's wrong, taking away the thing she's already said she loves and trying to replace with something _you_ think is better. What she deserves, Chuck, is a husband and a partner who respects the choices she makes."

"Even when that choice is a Nerd-Herder, girlish screams and all?"

"Especially when that choice is a Nerd-Herder. It's easy to respect choices we agree with. I doubt she loves your screams but she probably loves that you are not afraid to scream. Have you ever asked her why she loves you?"

"We don't–that is, she doesn't –I mean she does, of course she does, and I know she does, but she doesn't…talk about it, much." _My woman of action._

"I told you once before that I've seen the way Agent Carmichael looks at you, Chuck, and I seriously doubt there's anything you can do to yourself to be more worthy in her eyes. There's a great deal you can do to make yourself unworthy, though, and to be honest I think you're doing it." Dreyfus picked up a remote, pointed it at a monitor, and pressed a button.

_"Have you ever interacted with Charles Carmichael?"_

_"No I have not, except by radio this morning, nor do I wish to."_

_"Why not?"_

_"I love Chuck Bartowski. I married Chuck Bartowski. Charles Carmichael is very focused, and very cold."_

Dreyfus stopped the playback. "What's the matter, Chuck?"

He wiped his eyes. "That's…that's the first time I've heard her say it, Doc. That she loves me."

"Play your cards right–" _a little further from the vest would be good_ "–and I don't think it'll be the last."

* * *

Sarah tried to keep the tension out of her voice. "How's it going, Carina?"

"For what it's worth, your toy-boy has his fellow nerd in his corner. Even Casey was almost impressed." Carina covered the mike as Casey sneered. "How are you doing?"

"My husband is locked up, Carina. How do you _think_ I'm doing?" Ellie winced, and Sarah mouthed the word _Sorry_ at her.

"Hey, don't yell at me, yell at Carmichael."

Sarah turned away, spoke softly. "Carina, I know you had to take Chuck into custody, but don't tell me that you really think he did this."

"What am I supposed to think, Sarah? You saw Shaw die."

"It was a dream, Carina. It doesn't have to be _Shaw_, just…something _about_ Shaw."

Carina sighed into the phone. "Sounds pretty blonde to me, Blondie."

Which had to be Carina-speak for something. Sarah could live with that. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet, I still have to pester Casey until he gives in and does what I-Hey! He's throwing in the towel already! Score one for the girls' team. Text me that girl Hannah's number, I'll give her a call and see what she can dig up on this guy. Then we can start turning over rocks. Toodles."

* * *

Alex came to the window to find Morgan on the phone.

"So what do I do?" he asked, lifting up her waffle to the window. "Of course I remember that plan, Casey, we really showed those Large Mart goons–I'll be ready, are you gonna be ready? Sir, yes, sir!" He smiled as he handed Alex the syrup. "I love saying that. Wow! He is tough as _nails_, your old man."

The syrup bottle dropped, hitting the edge of the plate and dropping the whole masterpiece of edible artwork to the floor.

Alex didn't notice. "My what?"

* * *

Carina held a copy of the Kama Sutra in her hands. "You can't trust a man who has to take lessons." She put it back to join Casey in the middle of the room. "You're sure this was Shaw's penthouse?"

"According to the construction reports, it was. What do you think?"

Carina looked around, finally going to the French door and the balcony, where she looked all around, including up. Then she turned, standing in the doorway a second before going back to Casey. "Three things. First, I'd break an ankle jumping down here from that roof, even without the stiletto heels. Second–" she went to the painting and touched the side, making it slide over "–it's not Tron or a Bengal tiger, but it's close enough."

Casey nodded. "And third?"

"Someone's been in here. Recently."

* * *

**A/N2 **But who could that have been? And how did she know? And why on Earth did Shaw ever need a penthouse, or the Kama Sutra? I mean, it's a bit OOC for a man mourning his wife all that time.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N **The beginning of the end. With three episodes crammed into two, this one gets a double-sized climax. **  
**

* * *

"_You had the number one intelligence asset in the United States committed?"_

"_He's a very bad man." _

"_You think you're being modest but you're not."_

"_Someone's been in here. Recently."_

* * *

"And what were you doing _in_ the apartment, Colonel?" Frost collected on the speaker. "None of you are CIA." Beckman disliked apologizing for the trespasses of her agents as much as the next General.

"Following up on a suggestion made by Telescope, General." It's not passing the buck if it's true.

"Who is no longer on this case." And had no business making suggestions of any kind, even if she _was_ CIA.

"We can call it a recommendation if you prefer, General. The point being that a number of elements of Eagle-Eye's last…flash…have turned out to be accurate, if a bit on the obscure side, and several are connected to Stoneface."

Better. "The ones we couldn't connect elsewhere?"

"Correct. Eagle-Eye's never been there but the construction notes for the safe would have indicated both the balcony and the picture frame as well."

"But not the picture in it," said Beckman, getting the picture.

"No, ma'am."

"Very good. I trust you have also kept Dr. Dreyfus informed?"

"Yes, ma'am," said Casey. "We also have him in the loop regarding Manoosh's little scheme, since he would have to do the hypnotizing. Shall we–?"

"Continue with that. I want to see it."

"Yes, ma'am." The call terminated without a 'dismissed' or a 'goodbye' or anything. "God save me from curious Generals."

Carina flicked him a quick glance. "Oh, come on, Casey, aren't you even a little curious yourself?"

Casey frowned out the passenger window at all the happy little cars with their happy little drivers, zipping past them. "Even if I was," he said, answering her question by not answering it, "You know he's gonna make me play Colt."

* * *

"Thanks for keeping me in the loop, Casey." Sarah ended the call and turned to Ellie, waiting nervously on the couch for any good news. "They found Shaw's apartment, it matches some parts of Chuck's dream, and it looks like someone's been there recently."

That sounded good, but–"How recently?"

"Well, more recently than Shaw." Sarah went into the kitchen and poured herself some more coffee. "Dust evenly scattered, except on the picture over the safe, and some dishes by the sink."

Ellie frowned. "A neat burglar?"

Milk. "More likely a Ring agent, if he was after whatever was in the safe."

"And then he made himself a snack and washed up?"

"We do tend to be neat freaks, most of us," said Sarah, wiping up a spot of milk. "We have to notice where things are and make sure they stay that way, but you're right. Light housekeeping and B-and-E don't really go together…" She turned and leaned back against the counter. "I wish he'd call."

"Who, Carmichael?"

Sarah sighed. "Yeah, him too. Much as I'd love to hear the sound of Chuck's voice, I'd rather hear from your stalker because it would prove it wasn't Chuck. Secure facilities don't come with phone privileges."

Ellie knew it wasn't just sentiment. "And you could get a trace."

_You got me._ "And we could get a trace. Which means we probably won't get a call." Sarah shrugged in resignation.

"So we just sit here?"

"Hey, don't knock it," said Sarah. "I'm getting paid to hang out with you. That's a pretty sweet deal."

"We could hang out together while shopping…" Ellie let her voice trail upward hopefully.

Sarah shook her head, smiling. "I'd love to, but it's easier for the techs to monitor your calls if you're in a known location. Gives them a fixed point to start the trace from."

"And operational concerns come before all else." Ellie made a face. "Have I ever told you how much I think your life sucks?"

Sarah took a sip to hide her grimace. "Maybe once or twice. Can we talk about the gown some more, please?"

* * *

"Hello, Chuck. How was your lunch?"

Chuck belched, delicately. "I'm hoping that was a rhetorical question."

"God, yes," said Dreyfus, laughing. "Working through lunch is one of the perqs of this job." He picked up some papers and moved over to his 'working chair'. "I have received a request from your team. While strictly speaking it has no part of our business here, we are both involved so we may as well take care of the issue."

Chuck sat on the couch. "What issue?"

Dreyfus glanced at the top page, not that he needed to check the name but just out of habit. It was a 'doctor' thing. "Do you remember a man named Colt?"

Chuck shuddered dramatically. "Do I remember hanging upside down off the roof of a building and being dropped to my death?" He rubbed his shoulder in remembered pain. "Casey poisoned, Sarah threatened? Yeah, I think so."

Dreyfus made a note. "I notice you didn't mention Carmichael. They tell me this mission was the first where Carmichael made a distinctive appearance, and they want to get a record of it. To be honest I'd like to see it myself."

"That was just me, acting like Carmichael. I wrote a report on it–"

"They want to see it, Chuck. We, you and I, need to see how you created the role, so that we can see how Carmichael is deviating from it. Remember, Carmichael is copying _you_." Dreyfus handed over the papers. "What I need from you is the dialog, as best you can remember it. Under hypnosis, we will reenact the scene for posterity, or CIA central records, which is pretty much the same thing."

* * *

HOW IS MY DAUGHTER, MANOOSH?

_Shaken up pretty bad. Scared. They're saying the Host did it._

THAT'S RIDICULOUS.

_That's what I said, but who listens to the smartest people in the room? I'm trying to prove them wrong._

YOU CAN'T PROVE A NEGATIVE.

_I can if I find the guy who did it. That's why I need your help. I'm stuck in a hole, and I need eyes and ears._

I'M AFRAID I CAN'T HELP YOU THERE. THAT'S WHAT I'M TRAINING YOU TO BE. BUT

_Orion?_

WHAT'S THIS ON SCREEN THREE?

* * *

Ellie's phone rang.

She touched the speaker button. "Woodcombe residence."

"Hello, Eleanor. Killed anybody lately?"

Ellie pulled back her finger as if stung, but took courage from Sarah's approach. "Are you volunteering?"

"You've already killed me once, Eleanor. Never again." The line clicked off.

Sarah pounced on the phone, pressed a special button. "Anything?"

"Not long enough, Agent Carmichael."

Oh yes it was. "Long enough to know that that wasn't Charles." She grabbed the phone, speed-dialed Casey while pacing frantically. "Come on, come on!" She looked around. "What time is it?" She didn't wait for an answer. "They must be at the facility already, they aren't answering their phones. Come on."

Ellie got up and ran after her, grabbing a sweater and her bag. "Wait, I thought we were supposed to stay home for the technicians…"  
Sarah was already in her car, and Ellie could barely here her. "Let them earn their pay."

"Where are we going? I should leave a note for Devon."

"Call him from the road. If you think I'm waiting one second longer than I have to to get my husband out of there, well, maybe you should stay in the car, otherwise they'll think you belong."

* * *

Dreyfus handed out papers. "Colonel Casey, you'll play the part of Colt."

Casey looked at Carina. "Told you."

Dreyfus nodded in satisfaction. "While the attendants are moving the tables, I'll go get our star."

Casey watched a bit as they cleared a space by the interior clear partition that would serve as the windows in this charade, setting up recording equipment for the show to come. He studied his lines, not a lot but they were all at the beginning. Dammit. He was a choir boy, not an actor! He didn't mind doing this in front of the whack jobs and their keepers but Carina could blackmail him for years. Why couldn't any of these mercenaries have been women?

_Heh. _This guy Colt was pretty good with the theatrics. Limbering up before a murder! He'd have to try that during his next 'rigorous interrogation.'

Someone called from the other side of the door. "Buy More Nerd Herd. Hello?"

Showtime. Casey went to the door as Chuck kept talking.

"I'm here to help with your computer emer…gen…cy…"

"Hello, Chuck," said Casey, "Come on in."

* * *

Hypnotic regression was as close to time travel as they were ever going to get. Dreyfus found it endlessly fascinating, the way his patients could become the people they had been, but none more so than this man who wasn't a patient at all. Chuck's memory was spectacular, but far from the most special thing about him. His sense of self was extraordinary, which Dreyfus expected, given how he'd managed to create such a complete alternate persona. His younger self was ever so much less prepared and confident, yet even so managed to keep his wits about him in the face of the several fearsome men he must be seeing in his mind's eye.

"That's not a problem, that's not a problem at all. I forget things all the time, just ask my sister. I forgot her birthday, I forget my own social security number. Just ask me and I'll forget it."

He sounded so young! Such a change in only a year or two.

"What are you doing?"

Casey was bending and flexing. Dreyfus read along from the script, wondering idly if a trained killer really would pull a muscle from breaking someone's neck. Well, Colt would know if anyone did. Dreyfus looked up as silence fell. Chuck was walking towards the glass partition as Casey taunted him. So young, thought Dreyfus again. Helpless and alone, and he looked it.

_Where is Carmichael?_

"See, you walked into a trap, Chuck," sneered Casey. "If that is your real name."

Chuck's face changed. Panting terror gave way to–_Is he smiling?_ No, not just smiling. Dreyfus recognized the look of a man who was seizing his destiny, joy and terror all at once. He didn't know how he knew, but he knew.

Chuck turned, and Dreyfus willed himself to stay in his chair, out of Chuck's line of sight. He couldn't see the young man's face but he could hear his voice. "My name is Charles Carmichael. I'm a CIA agent, and this is my trap." That wasn't the hardened voice of the man who held a pen to his eye. This was Chuck speaking. _He invented Carmichael in the time it took him to turn around._

Casey looked stunned, and the attendants with him. Dreyfus waved at one of them frantically, and the man remembered his one line. "Uh, nothing there, Boss."

Casey woke up. "Good try, Chuck?"

Chuck didn't notice the tone. "Of course you don't see anyone, who do you think we are, the FBI?" A nice touch, thought Dreyfus, listening to the ever-more inventive line of utter crap that Chuck was speaking. Then the phone came out. Hopefully the man they had waiting on the other end was ready. They really should have had one of their men do the job but this was Chuck's best friend. They couldn't risk a strange voice now.

"Hey, Chuck!"

Dreyfus noticed the red-haired agent smile as the voice on the phone embellished the fantasy Chuck was spinning.

"-got a little bit impatient and took out one of the sentries, don't worry, it was a head shot, he couldn't warn his buddies. You should have seen it, his head exploded like a watermelon. It was _awesome_!"

"They must have gotten, uh, Frank? No, Fritz!"

"I thought he was, uh, in the, uh, can."

Casey advanced on Chuck, his 'mean face' on.

Chuck look death in the eye, and smiled back. "One more time–"

"Let him go," commanded a strange voice. Everyone turned to see a skinny little man in the doorway. "Or suffer the wrath of Merlin! And his army!" He gestured at the cow-eyed line of whack-jobs against the far wall.

Casey looked at Dreyfus.

"Not now, Lewis."

"Spies! Attack!" shouted 'Merlin', and the line of sad sacks exploded into motion, very much like the spies they once had been. Carina cringed as they leapt around her.

Casey took matters into his own hands, mowing them down with his tranq gun like the sitting ducks they were, and turned to finish the scene.

"Thank you, Casey," said Charles Carmichael, plucking the gun from his hand. "I'll take it from here." One dart went into Casey's neck, and Carmichael had the attendants dropping before he even hit the floor.

"Damn," said Merlin, and then he fled.

Carmichael advanced on Dreyfus. "Doctor. Thank you for your assistance."

Dreyfus stood, not feeling threatened but wary nonetheless. _So different, focused and cold._ "Agent Carmichael, I presume?"

Sarah appeared in the doorway. "Chuck!" She ran to embrace her husband.

"No, Sarah, it's Charles!" yelled Carina, but too late. Carmichael stunned Chuck's wife with a blow to the head and continued around to shoot Carina with the last dart. She fell as he turned back to complete his escape.

Ellie wielded her purse like a mace, only heavier, striking Carmichael down with a blow to the head. "Get out of my brother!"

Charles struck his head against the floor, and Chuck flashed.

* * *

The Buy More was quiet at night.

Chuck walked through the door in his pajamas and bathrobe, looking for something. Not cheese balls.

Charles Carmichael stepped out from behind the Nerd Herd desk, immaculate in the uniform. "May I be of some assistance, sir?" he asked, price gun at the ready.

Chuck felt a weight in his hand, and lifted it up to see the same scanner there. "Is that really what you want?"

"It doesn't seem appropriate, does it?" asked Charles. In unspoken unity, they tossed their weapons to the side with identical gestures. "What do you say, Chuck? You have one good flash left in you?"

* * *

"–one good flash left in you?"

Ellie lifted her brother's head carefully as Dr. Dreyfus slid a pillow under it.

"Do you?" said Chuck.

"I don't need the Intersect," said the Charles voice, cold and passionless. "I _am_ the Intersect. The perfect spy, just like you wanted. What I need is for you to get out of the way and let me have the body." Ellie and Dreyfus looked at each other. Charles smirked. "Take your time, I'll wait."

Chuck's face twisted in pain, his body writhing on the floor as he accessed the skills.

* * *

The brain has no nerves to feel pain, but Chuck wouldn't have believed Ellie if she'd said that. The velvet gloves had come off, and now facts and skills were shoved into his mind and body with iron claws covered with barbed wire. He blinked furiously, clearing his eyes, trying to focus on Carmichael as he raised his fists and adopted a fighting posture.

As one, they raced toward each other, but where Carmichael struck high, Chuck went low, his favored tactic from his days playing Catch and Release in the library with Bryce. If Carmichael was the Intersect, then it only made sense not to use Intersect skills against him.

Carmichael turned, eyes fluttering. "Bryce. In the library, with a dart gun."

_Oh, crap._ The Intersect had every one of his combat techniques on file. Every move Bryce had ever used, every counter he'd ever developed.

Carmichael moved in, hammering Chuck with precise strikes thrown at machine speeds with computer precision. Chuck fought desperately, but if any of the blows he struck hurt his robotic alter ego it didn't show. He couldn't outfight himself!

He launched a roundhouse kick, but Carmichael dodged easily and stepped in for the kill after the blow had passed. Chuck used the position to pass a hand of the Nerd Herd Desk to grab the microphone, and the momentum to swing it around like a bolo, wrapping around Carmichael's neck. He pulled his enemy face first into the desk.

Carmichael kicked out blindly, catching Chuck in the belly as moved in for a crippling blow. The Intersect Agent turned and shoved Chuck hard into a display, bringing them both crashing to the ground. As Chuck lay stunned, Carmichael casually leaned on one of the larger units and toppled it onto his rival. Only as Chuck struggled to free himself did Carmichael bother to unwind the cord from around his throat. "You cannot win, Bartowski," he declared, voice gruff from the strangulation. "I am the strongest."

Chuck couldn't help it. He laughed. _Oh well, if he was gonna die anyway–_"My cord has improved your voice," he said in a very bad Scottish accent.

Carmichael froze, eyes fluttering.

Chuck kicked out, toppling his distracted enemy, and he ran into the stacks of the Buy More before Carmichael could right himself.

Charles used his height to good advantage, checking all the mirrors carefully placed to prevent Jeff and/or Lester doing something they shouldn't in the aisles.

Chuck leapt over the display behind him as he turned, kicking him in the back.

* * *

"Tag! You're it!" shouted Chuck suddenly, and both doctors jerked back in surprise.

"Yes, Chuck!" said Dreyfus.

* * *

By the time Carmichael stood up Chuck had already run away. _What kind of fighting style was this?_ He flashed on guerrilla combat techniques.

Chuck threw a waffle iron like a Frisbee, hitting Carmichael in the head.

Standard countermeasures against guerrillas applied here. Chuck used the aisles to good advantage, so Carmichael had to deny him that advantage.

"Fore!" As Carmichael turned to the sound of that voice he saw something burst up into the air, arcing toward him with ballistic precision. He computed the path and stood slightly to one side. Just before impact he turned, even as Chuck was about to whack him over the head. He shoved the display Chuck stood on, forcing his opponent to leap awkwardly from one perch to another as they toppled, lest he be caught under them once again. "You're pathetic, Chuck. The first opening I give you and you leap right into my arms." Carmichael walked into the Home Electronics section, where Chuck stood exposed, his eyes flickering left and right, searching frantically for an escape route. "Nothing to say now?"

* * *

Chuck's face settled into calm lines. "All ballerinas are tall."

Ellie looked at Dr. Dreyfus. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Dreyfus smiled. "Nothing the Intersect can understand."

* * *

Carmichael froze again, calculating the significance of the words, and Chuck moved in. "My name is not Charles Carmichael. I am not a CIA agent, and this is _my_ trap." He lifted his doppelganger up over his shoulder and let him fall onto the minimally carpeted floor.

Chuck spun around, facing the wall of televisions. "Initiate upload." The screens started to flicker as he bent and hauled his stunned adversary to his feet.

Carmichael's head cleared just in time to see where he was heading. "No!"

Chuck smirked. "Oh, yes." With one hand in his collar and another at his waist, Chuck propelled Charles Carmichael into the Intersect he was so much a part of, adding a kick in the rear for good measure.

The wall flashed. When the glare cleared, Chuck saw Charles Carmichael falling away from the screen, smaller, smaller. Individual screens flared, showing smaller screens inset, and Carmichael falling away in all of them, smaller, smaller. Then he was gone.

The screens changed, all showing the same scene. _He stood on a roof, Sarah staring at him in shock and wonder. _

_"Tell me you got it," demanded Casey._

"_Hey," he said, holding up the cipher. "This is me."_

* * *

**A/N2 **One down, one to go!**  
**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N **My thanks to phnxgrl for her advice on how to handle the brainwave scenes.

* * *

"_You know he's gonna make me play Colt."_

"_Are you volunteering?" _

"_Get out of my brother!" _

"_All ballerinas are tall."_

* * *

"I wish they'd wake up," said Ellie, perched on a stool. She hated being alone. Dr. Dreyfus was standing right there, but he was no substitute, not when almost her entire family was inert on the floor in front of her. The attendants who weren't knocked out had quickly removed those who were, as well as the patients, leaving the four agents lying on mats on the floor.

At least he had some medical training, could offer her _that_ comfort. "The two agents just took tranq darts, they should be fine," he pointed out. "Chuck, on the other hand, has just experienced severe psychological trauma. His mind needs to process it, and it's probably for the best he not wake up until he's ready. I'm most concerned about Agent Walker–"

"Her name is Bartowski." She was family.

He'd read the file, but that was all. "Quite. I apologize. She should have woken up before this, unless there was some damage inflicted when Carmichael struck her down. I've called for an ambulance."

Ellie nodded. Just to have something to do she walked over and checked her brother's pulse, and Sarah's, kneeling between them. Idly she brushed the curls from his forehead, reminded of younger days, not necessarily better days. At least now he had Sarah. She looked up. "Thank you."

She took him by surprise. "For what?"

"For saying Carmichael, and not my brother." Ellie sniffed. "Chuck's going to feel guilty enough as it is."

"He's got nothing to feel sorry about."

"He created Charles Carmichael. Believe me, he will."

"I believe that is a mistake."

Ellie looked like she was about to argue the matter, but then she just looked confused. "Which part?"

Dreyfus smiled, and clarified. "I fully agree that he will feel guilty, but I believe he will be mistaken to do so. The Charles Carmichael he just destroyed was not the one he created."

Ellie paled. "You can't mean there were two of them."

"You would be able to tell that better than me. My only point is that Chuck called Carmichael a work in progress, and I believe he was. He was evolving."

Ellie pointed at Sarah."That was not evolution! That was a radical discontinuity!"

"The asteroid hitting the Earth was a radical discontinuity, and the dinosaurs died. Had they been virtual they might have changed to meet the need. Chuck was captured and tormented, his brain shut down forcibly. I have no idea what that would have done to Carmichael, but I'm quite sure it must have done something."

She couldn't wait to get her brother back to the lab. "Chuck's flashes are causing him a lot of pain…"

"Exactly." Dreyfus came up on Chuck's other side, looking down speculatively. "Something changed, and Carmichael changed with it. And since he seems to have changed for the worse I'm just as glad Chuck was able to stop him running off and turning into one of those comic-book supervillains he's always going on about."

Ellie smiled at that, running her fingers through Chuck's hair again. "Lex Luthor and Brainiac were both bald, too." Much as she preferred her brother not have funny animal shapes on his head, she didn't want _that_.

Dreyfus shrugged, running a hand over his own head. "So was Uncle Fester, so you see that doesn't prove anything."

Ellie tried not to laugh, and stood up instead. "That's the best you can do?"

Dreyfus chuckled. "You'll have to ask Chuck, I was tapped out with the dinosaur analogy."

* * *

"Good afternoon, General."

Diane Beckman looked up, surprised for the first time a long while, and not a nice sort of surprise, either. To a General, an NSA officer, and her personally, there were no nice surprises. The sight on her monitor, flowing with purple pixels in the vague outline of a man, was even less nice than that. He probably adopted the look just because he knew how viscerally unpleasant she found it. "Orion," she said, "To what do I owe this dubious pleasure? You could have made an appointment with my aide."

Orion laughed. "I suppose, but…the twelfth of Never isn't soon enough, and besides, this way there are no records."

Beckman stiffened. "And why would you want there to be no records?"

The pixels stilled as the perpetually nervous and twitchy man stilled to stare at her. "You've put both of my children in danger, Diane."

It took more than purple pixels to scare her. "If Chuck wasn't operating under our umbrella he'd be the guest of honor in an international feeding frenzy. He doesn't have your gifts, they'd kill him rather than see him working for someone else. I've done far more for him than you have."

"Don't expect gratitude, Diane, you're a necessary evil, nothing more."

"What do you want, Orion?"

"My daughter was assaulted last night."

"I'm aware of that." The thought of it, the _shame_ of it, caused her almost physical pain.

"Lax security to one side," said Orion, knowing it would bother Beckman simply by being true, "I paid a visit to her lab today, and guess what I found?"

"An empty lab?"

"Her assistant, who isn't even allowed to leave the lab, is the only one searching for the attacker, because your team has already turned on Chuck and had him committed. That's what you've done for my boy."

God save her from the self-righteous. "He's not your _boy_ anymore, Orion. He's a man, doing what men do. If you wanted to keep him in a box, why'd you ever have him?"

"I don't want him in a box, I just want him safe, happy…"

"He _is_ happy, Stephen, or haven't you noticed?" snapped the General. "As for safe, he makes himself less safe so that other people will be more safe, that's the kind of man he is, the man _Ellie_ made him into after _you_ ran away." Her tone became dismissive. "So don't talk to me about safe. What do you want?"

"I want my boy, my son, released."

"I can't do that, Orion. Charles Carmichael is the only viable suspect."

"What if I could prove to you that he's not?"

* * *

Casey tried to grunt, but it came out a groan. Tranq darts always gave him a really good feeling going in and a really horrible feeling coming out.

"Oh, Casey, good, you're up."

_Is that what they're calling it?_ "Ellie? What are you doing here?"

"Long story." Ellie started putting her coat. "The stalker called again, while you were here, so Sarah and I knew Chuck wasn't him. Sarah dragged me along to get her husband out of here and we walked smack into Carmichael, right after he'd taken most of you out. He hit Sarah, I'm going with her to the hospital right now. The ambulance _finally_ got here."

"Chuck hit Sarah?"

She grabbed her purse. "Carmichael hit Sarah, John. Chuck would never hit anyone, but Dr. Dreyfus thinks Carmichael was somehow separated from Chuck by the Ring, and believe you me, the second I get him back to the lab I'm going to find any evidence I can to support that theory."

Casey tried to sit up, then tried again. "Where's Chu-Carmichael now?"

Ellie smiled. "Dead and gone, John, dead and gone. Chuck got rid of him after I knocked him cold."

Casey felt like he should be lying down again. "Chuck? You? What?"

"No time, John. I have to run. Look after Chuck for me."

He started out nodding but his head ended up in his hands. He really hated tranq-head.

Carina started shrieking next to him. "Oh, God, kill me now!"

He was so minded to grant her wish but he really didn't have the energy for it. "What's the matter with you, Miller?"

"We had to administer a tranq antagonist," said Dreyfus as he walked in. "Agent Miller has half your mass, Colonel, the dart would have taken considerably longer to wear off for her."

Carina's continued shrieking finally drove Casey to his feet. "You know why they don't use those things anymore, don't you, Doctor? Because the people they gave them to bitched and moaned so much they had to be tranqed again just to shut them up."

His pocket buzzed, and he pulled out his phone. Eight voicemails from Grimes and one from the General. He selected that one. "Great," he snarled when it finished. "She wants a sit-rep. What the hell even happened?"

"Come to my office, Colonel. The man I had running the camera on this side of the glass wasn't knocked out by anybody, so I had him put all the recordings on a disk for you."

"One second." Casey pulled the mats he and Sarah had been lying on out of the way, and tugged Carina's over next to Chuck. "Miller!" he said, putting her hand delicately around her gun. "You're on watch. I have to go report to the General." He watched carefully and noticed the slight nodding.

They closed the door on her renewed bitching and moaning. "Let Chuck listen to that," said Casey.

* * *

_Orion?_

YES, MANOOSH?

_How'd it go with North Star?_

ABOUT AS WELL AS YOU CAN EXPECT WHEN DEALING WITH U.S. INTELLIGENCE AGENCIES.

_I have something strange you should see. Screen two._

OKAY, I'M SEEING IT. WHAT AM I SEEING? WHY THE COLORS?

_I like the colors. It bothered me that the individual lines were all white, so I color-coded them._

WHY BOTHER? THE COLORS ARE ONLY TO HELP TELL THE LINES APART IN THE GLOBAL VIEW. SO THESE ARE THE SEPARATE WAVES. WHAT'S SO STRANGE?

_These are the waves we recorded from the Host after we got him back from the Ring._

OKAY, AND…

_These are from a recording prior to his capture._

WHAT THE HELL ARE THOSE?

_No need to curse. They look like hidden waves, embedded somehow in the ones we normally see._

SORRY. SO HE HAD THESE PRIOR TO HIS CAPTURE BUT NOT AFTER. AND NOW HE FEELS PAIN…CAN YOU REMOVE THE OUTER WAVE?

_Yeah. Setting the color to clear._

INTERESTING.

_What's interesting? They don't look the same._

I NEED TO PLAY WITH THIS A BIT.

That wasn't an answer. Manoosh took that as a challenge, and started playing with it himself.

* * *

Casey tapped lightly on the door. "Miller. I'm coming in." Only then did he open the door. Carina lay there, no longer bitching and moaning but still looking a little green around the gills with a gun in her hand. "Will you be okay to watch Chuck alone?"

She nodded her head _very _carefully. "What's up?"

"The General has some new intel from Orion, he's taking his son getting detained kind'a personal. Apparently he eavesdropped on Manoosh and analyzed the Ring data. I have to go back and get a briefing on it, and drop off this disk with the recordings of this snafu on it."

Carina actually lifted her head. "His son? Chuck?"

"Yep. There may be other guys out there who can do what Chuck does, oh joy. I'm supposed to take that to Ellie at the hospital."

"Other guys, so…Chuck's not the only suspect? He can go home?"

Casey nodded. "Tomorrow, if he checks out all right, and both doctors have to sign off on that." He held up a set of keys, put them next to her on the mat. "Sarah's Porsche. Your problem now."

On the drive back to Langley Morgan phoned again. Casey had better things to do and declined. "Geez, that guy just doesn't give up."

He noticed the time on his phone. _Dammit!_ He'll be cutting it close, the guys in IM will be taking their afternoon cigar break soon. All kinds of awkward for all kinds of reasons, just nip in, do what he had to do, and nip out again. At least he didn't have his regular car, they'd recognize that one.

The back lot was full of cars, but thankfully, not full of guys in coveralls standing outside. Casey pulled his POS into the nearest available space and headed for the door.

"Mr. Casey?"

He looked around. No one should be calling him that here. Then he spotted her walking toward him with a determined look to her face.

"Are you my father?"

Morgan, that damn troll. I told him to keep it under his hat! "That's classified. I can't answer your question." He turned and headed for the door.

So much the wrong answer. "Are you?" she yelled, "Or are you a coward, afraid of a little girl and a simple question?"

_Oh, great!_ The yelling was attracting attention. Dimples and Showtunes, and God knows who else in a few more minutes.

"Who's the liar here, you or Morgan?" Her voice was beginning to break, or maybe that was her heart.

He could…he could…no, he couldn't. "Morgan Grimes has never once lied to you, to the best of my knowledge," he said, to the wall, to his feet. He turned, the hardest action of his life. "My name is Alex Coburn. I proposed to Kathleen McHugh in a bus station in Niagara Falls right before I shipped out. I died in Honduras, 1989. And I…I am your father."

He watched her face, still, neither crying nor smiling. She was trembling, although it wasn't cold. When she stepped closer to him, he made no attempt to back away. When she punched him, hard, he made no attempt to stop her in any of the several dozen ways he knew. When she jabbed him in the throat he choked, when she kicked him where it hurts he fell to his knees. When she gripped his hair and pulled up, he lifted his face.

"Liar." The vilest curse she knew.

_I do that._ He couldn't say it but he didn't have to. He kept his head up, watched her as she walked away, drove away, ran away. He looked down at the disk in his hand.

"Well, Ladyfeelings, what are you gonna do now?" asked Dimples.

He cleared his throat, didn't look up. "My duty." Always duty.

They walked away from the door. "Well, best get about it, then."

He got.

* * *

Carina lay still on the floor, gun in hand. Chuck lay next to her, moaning softly as if to punish her for all the noise she'd recently stopped making.

When the lights went out she sat up.

When the door opened she started shooting.

* * *

No one saw Casey as he exited the building. Not that they weren't all there, chatting quietly, a good bit further from the door than they usually stood. None of them looked his way, a bit of forbearance for which he was grateful. Automatically he walked to his usual spot and…there was his car, a tiny bright spot of mercy in his day.

He called ahead on the way to the hospital, wanting to hand off Ellie's lockbox and get back to Carina as soon as possible.

No one answered the page. There was no record of a Sarah Bartowski seen or admitted. He got disconnected, and when he called back he got a busy signal. He called Devon. "Can you get in touch with Ellie, find out where she is? I have a package for her."

"Isn't she with you? She left a message she was heading out with Sarah to meet up."

"We did meet, Devon. But Sarah was injured and Ellie rode with her to the hospital. I tried to page her but now I can't even get through."

"You ain't kiddin'. Right about the time I left an ambulance went missing, and people were starting to climb the walls–"

Casey hung up, chose a new number. "General, we have a situation. An ambulance is missing, and Ellie and Sarah never made it to the hospital."

"It's worse than that, Colonel. The psychiatric facility has been penetrated. Agent Miller discharged her weapon several times, but she and several guards were overcome. No fatalities, but Chuck is missing."

* * *

Something made a noise, and Ellie Woodcombe awoke, blinking in the harsh lighting.

"Oh, my head."

Sarah's voice. Ellie turned her head and there she was, lying on another gurney in the little room, her hands over her eyes. Ellie moved to get off her own transport, almost collapsing when her weight landed on her knees. But Sarah needed her and she forced her legs to work. "Sarah? How do you feel?" She tried to move Sarah's hands to get a look at her eyes.

Sarah resisted. "So bright. Head hurts. Where are we?"

"I don't know," said Ellie, moving to cast Sarah into her shadow. "We were in an ambulance, and then I woke up here. What do you remember?"

Sarah opened her eyes, blinking even now. "We were on our way to pick up…my husband." _Shhh_, she breathed into Ellie's face. When she saw she had Ellie's attention, she mouthed the words _Not Secure._

Ellie mouthed back _Carmichael hit you_, and said, "We found your husband, but you fell and hit your head. You might have a concussion." Ellie took out a handkerchief, unfolded it into a long strip.

"I find that…hard to believe."

Ellie laid the strip over Sarah's eyes. "Most people do," she said, backing away toward the door. "It's the memory loss, you don't remember the last few hours so it seems like reality shifted around you. Just rest. I'll see if I can find some first–" The door handle wouldn't turn. "Well, scratch that plan. Looks like we'll have to wait until someone comes to talk to us."

* * *

The minion stopped by Leader's workstation, waiting patiently until Leader could and did spare some attention for him.

"Have we learned anything of interest?"

"No, Leader. The Bartowski woman complained of pain, and Dr. Woodcombe obscured the view of our cameras rendering triage. They discussed symptoms, but no meaningful conversation has taken place since. They seem to be hoping for some assistance."

"Render it. Be friendly, and perhaps she'll tell us where our experiment went without us having to torture it out of her. Go."

"Yes, Leader."

* * *

Chuck Bartowski awoke, in his own robe and his own pajamas, lying on the couch in his own living room. His mouth was dry and his head hurt, and he groaned.

"Ah, the sleeper wakes," said a cold, unpleasant voice. "I was beginning to wonder if I was ever going to get a chance to kill you, Bartowski."

Chuck raised his head, looking for the speaker in the dark. "Kill me?"

"Of course," said the voice, as a dark shape moved against the window, black on black. "You can't imagine that I'd let you live with what you've done, keep what you've stolen from me?"

"Stolen? I haven't stolen anything. I haven't even borrowed anything." He reached down, felt under the edge of the couch.

"Taken everything, you and your sister. But turnabout is fair play, Chuck, fair play. She killed me and you stole my body, and now I'll return the favor. Once I have my body back, I'll kill your sister and then we'll be even."

Slowly, quietly, he unzipped the bag, felt around inside. "My sister never killed anyone."

The black shape lunged. "Liar!"

Chuck swung his hand up, smashing the chemical light against the hard planes of a face. A familiar face. "Shaw! But you're dead! They saw you die!"

"I know I'm dead, Chuck. But my name's not Shaw. It's Carmichael. Charles Carmichael."

* * *

**A/N2 **Well what do you know about that? Another cliffhanger…


End file.
